


I Am What I Am

by Galena



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Gen, Identity, Mild Gore, the Magnus armour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1429378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galena/pseuds/Galena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Ultra Magnus and Whirl discuss identity while Mags bleeds all over the floor. Then Whirl talks him out of his armour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am What I Am

**Author's Note:**

> I've become fascinated by these two. This may develop multiple chapters.
> 
> Someday I will write something that includes more than two or three characters, I swear.

Magnus slumped against the wall, aware that his intakes were making a worrisome crackling whine.

"I'll be fine," he lied, before he could evaluate what he was saying and why. It was an automatic reaction; instant assurance to those under his command, an attempt to minimize distractions and ensure completion of the mission.

"Yeah, right," said Whirl, "I can see that. Right through the hole in your chest." He gestured with one claw.

"Missed my spark," Magnus rattled and slid down the wall. His knees were shaking. He landed on his aft and the impact jarred something that twinged painfully. He grimaced.

Whirl watched him, then tensed, raising his gun as the racket of pursuit drew upon them. He opened fire, moving towards the invaders with quick, aggressive steps. Magnus tried to bring his own weapons to bear but the relays in his arm were off-line and he could only watch as Whirl cut down their attackers. What remained of their company withdrew hastily under his assault.

The helicopter jogged back to him. "Persistent!" he said, almost jubilant. He settled the butt of his gun on the ground beside Magnus and stood before him. "They were calling a retreat. Probably gone off to find reinforcements."

"I signaled the _Lost Light_ with our position shortly before we entered the cavern," said Magnus. His vocal output hissed off into a whisper of static. He rebooted his vocalizer. "They will be able to track us. We have perhaps an hour before our own reinforcements arrive."

Whirl lowered himself into a crouch, leaning forward to peer at Magnus' wound. "We're too exposed here. We should move. Can you move?"

Magnus shook his head.

"You gonna survive for an hour?"

Magnus fixed him with a frown. "I must."

"You're losing a lot of energon there."

Magnus let his optics shutter. "I'll be fine."

"Don't close your eyes," Whirl snapped. "C'mon, Big M, you know better than that."

Magnus forced himself to look at Whirl. The helicopter was facing away from him, scanning the caverns single entrance, weapon lowered but still in hand.

"I'm not going to die," Magnus told him.

"Well, you're not gonna get better either, til the cavalry arrives."

Magnus couldn't argue with that.

He resettled himself, trying to get comfortable. The sharp pain in his chest had dulled to a throbbing ache as his auto-repair system shut down damaged nerve relays and sensory clusters. Although the auto-repair was programmed to dull pain stimulus while leaving Magnus' limbs nominally functional for self-defence or manual repair, the location of his wound, coupled with Whirl's proximity and defensive capabilities, over-rode that command. His entire left arm was numb and slack. He queried the rest of his motor relays. They reported nominal functionality.

There was little Magnus could do but wait and hope their attackers didn't return.

Whirl prowled about the cavern, weapon in hand. He dragged one claw along a thick, pale layer in the stratigraphy, absently tracing the record of some catastrophic volcanic event. Magnus tuned his sensors toward the mouth of their hiding place, ignoring the soft rasp of metal on stone. Whirl circled back to stand beside him, then sat, cradling the gun in his lap.

"Are you hurt  _inside_ or is it just the suit?"

Magnus raised his functional arm and carefully explored the hole with his fingertips. Current had been cut to the wiring in the area and the energon conduits were cauterized now, so there was little more in the way of first aid that he could render. Still, it was jarring to see through the layers of himself like this, to catch glimpses of what he worked to keep secret in flecks of green paint among the gore.

"Yes," he replied, at length. "I think. It's difficult to tell while I'm joined to the suit. But I think... yes."

Whirl leaned over and put his optic up close to the wound. "I can see... non-Magnus-y bits. Are your attention disrupters or whatever broken?" He peered closer, almost touching. "They must be broken."

Magnus rebooted his vocalizer again. "Off-line. Waste of power right now."

"Waste of power? Don't you have, like, a super-spark?" He paused. "Is your spark casing compromised?" Whirl twisted, trying to look deeper into the wound.

Magnus pushed him away and nodded. "Nothing potentially lethal."

There was a noise at the mouth of the cavern and Whirl pounced to his feet before Magnus could finish turning his head to investigate. Whirl dropped his gun in favour of transforming and shot forward, integrated cannons rattling off furious rounds as he swooped towards the incursion. He was gone for almost a minute, out of Magnus' sight, though the sound of weaponsfire echoed through the cave system.

Magnus hissed and shifted again. The motion set off a wave of vertigo and his optics flickered briefly. He queried the Magnus armour for details but there was no response. The suit was in emergency energy-conservation mode. Far off, there was a deep boom and the felt-not-heard roar of breaking rock. Magnus waited. Shortly, there was the tell-tale drone of Whirl's rotors and he swept into view, boasting a smear of carbon-scoring on one flank.

"I collapsed the ceiling out there," he said and transformed. "They can probably get in with the right equipment- or a couple armloads of explosives- but it'll take 'em a while." He picked up his gun again and hesitated, watching Magnus. "Why don't you take it off?"

"What?"

"The armour. Even with your load-bearer super-power-"

"It's not a-"

"-it's gotta be putting extra strain on your spark to keep it powered on or whatever, right? Last time I got shot in the chest, it crimped some part of my spark casing and the medic disconnected my weapon system so it didn't put stress on the spark while it was improperly contained."

Magnus considered.

"They're not getting through that rockfall for a while, M. Even if they do, the armour'll make a good decoy and you're a hell of a small target outside of it. I'll give you my gun."

Magnus weighed the option. Out of the armour, he was much more fragile but Whirl had a point. The suit's weapons were offline for the very reason Whirl described. His own defensive systems had computed his survival using the available information: no external weapons of his own, one armed companion in close proximity, and minor but invasive damage to his spark casing.

His only cause for concern was whether or not he could exit the suit safely.

"I'll need your help," he said finally. "There are hidden manual releases-"

"Not much good with that  _manual_ stuff," said Whirl, clicking one crude pincer.

"If  _I_ can trigger them," said Magnus, raising his functional hand to show Whirl his large, blunt fingertips, "then you should be able to as well."

Before he tried, Magnus took careful stock of each place where his injuries had penetrated the armour. If it was crumpled wrong or melted against his plating, the damage could hamper his release or even impair him further. The hole in his chest was the only source of potential trouble.

"I can't. I think if I try to remove this piece, it's going to wrench my own plating off. It's fused."

Whirl peered at the area in question, then abruptly stuck one clawtip into the hole. Magnus tensed, vocalizer snapping out bursts of noise, but he felt nothing.

"Whirl-"

"Yeah, it's welded together in a couple places. Give me a second."

"What are you doing?"

"They're not real welds and they're fresh. I can-" His arm jerked and Magnus' EM field fluttered in response to a tiny electrical surge. "There we go. Couple more..."

"What are you  _doing_ , Whirl?"

"Poking through them. There you go." He sat back, wiping his claw on the floor. "Okay, now what?"

A rush of horror came with the understanding that Whirl had put his claw so close to Magnus' compromised spark casing. He pushed the thought aside, shuttered his optics and triggered the exit sequence. He directed Whirl to the manual release sensors, though in the end, he only required two of them to be activated. It went fairly smoothly. Auto-release was never as fast or seamless as the times Tyrest divested Magnus of the armour with the press of a button, but it was more comfortable, less sudden, and more controlled.

As the armour's systems disengaged from his own body, Magnus was able to better interpret his condition. He was still bleeding. One edge of his spark casing was peeled back, minutely. He had compression damage, burns, and superficial scrapes, but overall, he felt better.

"Oh," he said and automatically put a hand to his chest to cover the sliver of brilliance leaking out. Whirl shifted- good lord, he was  _huge_ from this perspective! nothing but sharp angles and guns- and put his helm so close that Magnus' entire vision was occupied by one sulphurous optic.

"I'm gonna call you 'Little M' now."

Magnus-  _Minimus_ \- frowned. "Taking liberties with a superior officer's designation is an offence punishable by written reprimand."

"You didn't mind 'Big M'," Whirl pointed out. Then he cocked his head. "Whattaya want me to call you now? Are you still Ultra Magnus?"

"Yes," he said. He consciously eased his hand away from his chest. "I was Minimus Ambus until the day I put on that armour, and from then on, I was- and remain- Ultra Magnus."

Whirl turned aside, antenna flicking, listening to something distant that Magnus didn't hear. The armour contained a much more broad range of sensing equipment than his own body. It made him slightly deaf.

"I changed my name once," said Whirl.

"It's more than that," said Magnus. He rearranged himself, stiff and cautious, settling back against the wall, surrounded by the pieces of his armour. He felt cold, although he understood it was a purely psychological reaction.

Whirl scooted over beside him.

"So," he said. He picked at a scratch on the armour. Magnus slapped his hand. "I worked with one- or more- of your predecessors. You've got the same name but... there were little things. I didn't put it together or anything, but there were little things. I guess it was the guy before you, whoever that was, that liked bein' called 'Big M'. Was he a little guy too?"

"He was small."

"Small as you?"

"It's not important. Ultra Magnus is important."

"Whoa, Mags, talking about yourself in the third person is right up there on the 'crazy' check-list."

Magnus darted a glare at the helicopter. His optic housing arched in amusement. "You know what I meant," Magnus growled.

"Yeah. Symbol of enduring dedication to the Autobot cause and scary unkillable opponent to the Decepticons... I get it." He inched his claw toward another section of armour, watching Magnus watch him. He stopped short of touching it. "I guess it is more than just changing your name. You got a whole new identity, a new life. New body, new function, tons of upgrades, everything."

Magnus did not feel the need to reply.

Whirl turned his gun over, ejected the power pack, examined the contacts, and re-inserted it. A moment later, he removed it again and began field-stripping the weapon. Magnus watched him work. It took him one minute and 15 seconds to break down the gun and one minute, 21 seconds to re-assemble it.

"Is that what you wanted?" Magnus asked after Whirl had field-stripped his gun four more times. "When you changed your name?"

Whirl shrugged one shoulder. "No," he said. The last piece clicked into place. He glanced at Magnus. "I gave up. Nothing went right for Whirl. It didn't matter how hard he worked, or whether he followed the rules. Yeah, I know, third person. You started it. Anyway, I was tired of trying and failing all the time. So I gave up on being Whirl and changed my name."

"A name change didn't absolve your history."

"No, but it made introducing myself to other Autobots go a lot smoother." Whirl set the gun aside and linked his claws. "Got my armour over-hauled too."

"You were running away from your history."

"Hell yes, I was," said Whirl.

Magnus frowned. "Why did you change it back?"

Whirl leaned his elbows on his knees and stared fixedly across the cavern. "D'you ever not hear somebody when they're calling you 'cause you forgot it was your name? You ever not respond to 'Magnus'?"

Magnus shook his head. "No."

"Oh. Well, I did. New name? It was a stupid idea. Everyone knew who I was anyway and it made me look like a coward." He opened his hands and studied the mechanisms. "Jetstream  _was_ a coward."

"It was a terrible name," said Magnus after a moment. He glanced at Whirl. The helicopter's expression was unreadable. "You're not even a jet. Whirl is much better; much more accurate."

Whirl burst out laughing. He smacked a claw against his thigh, turned, and stopped just short of cuffing Magnus on the shoulder. "Abso-frikkin'-lutely. Ha! 'Ultra Magnus' is a lot better than 'Minimus Ambus', too."

"I like Minimus Ambus. It is still meaningful to me."

"So I can call you Minimus then?"

"No."

"How 'bout when no one else is around?"

"No, Whirl, you may not."

"Well, gee sir, I'd sure hate to have something as serious as 'taking liberties with a superior officers name' on my permanent record..."

"Whirl..." Magnus groaned, half in real annoyance and half in a tired sort of camaraderie. Whirl wasn't  _trying_ to take his mind off the pain in his chest, but he was succeeding nonetheless. "It's 'taking liberties with a superior officers  _designation_ '."

"Name, designation... what's the difference? More importantly, who cares?"

"In this case, a name is the handle regularly used by your peers to refer to you."

"And clearly,  _you_ care..."

"A designation is the formal name by which you are known."

"Wait. That means I  _can_ call you Minimus, since it's a handle used by your peer, and not break the rules, since the rules specifically talk about your  _designation_ , which would be Ultra Magnus."

Magnus felt his eye twitch.

"But I won't because I think it's a dumb name, even if you like it."

Magnus was taken aback by Whirl's tone for a moment. It wasn't antagonistic; it was almost soft. He glanced up at the helicopter, but Whirl was peering toward the cavern entrance again, raising himself into a ready half-crouch.

"Have they gotten through?" Magnus asked. He willed himself to stand and found it was not as much of an ordeal as he anticipated. Whirl straightened abruptly and deposited his gun at Magnus' feet.

"I dunno." He took a step and paused. "They're doing something. Trying to be sneaky." He transformed and hovered in place. Magnus knelt and put his hands on the gun while darkness suddenly threatened to overwhelm his vision. He pulled the weapon onto his knees and held still, focusing on his proprioceptors and forcing his processor to recognize his posture. Whirl's rotors sped up to a high whine beside him.

"Gonna take a look," he said and sped off. Magnus nodded in his wake, hands shaking on the weapon.

After five minutes of silence, Magnus comm'd Whirl.

"Situation report."

"They've made a hole in the debris. They're shoring it up, coming through in ones and twos. There's gonna be a lot of them."

Magnus heaved the gun up onto his shoulder. "A lot or too many?"

Whirl didn't reply for several seconds. Then: "How many is too many?"

"More than a lot?" Magnus snapped and forced himself to his feet. He had felt better sitting still but standing and holding the gun was making him dizzy. He glanced at the Magnus armour, tumbled around him in a tidy pile. "I'm not going to be much help," he added. Magnus doubted he could stand up for much longer, never-mind walk or run.

Whirl returned, flipping out of his alt mode and landing easily beside him.

"They don't have any heavy artillery with them; none of the stuff they had before that punched a hole in you, at least. But there's lots of them and more coming."

"Scout the caves behind us, quickly."

Whirl hesitated.

" _Quickly_ ."

He bounded away, transforming mid-stride. Magnus leaned on the wall, straining his un-augmented senses towards their encroaching adversaries. He began to feel cold again, and blind, and deaf. He found the weapon's trigger and laid his palm alongside it.

"Whirl?"

"The good news is this cave is huge."

"And the bad news?" asked Magnus with a sinking feeling in his spark wholly unrelated to the damaged casing.

"I think I'm lost."

Magnus shuttered his optics.

"Check your navigation log. Retrace your route."

"I, uh..."

"You didn't activate your log." Magnus felt a sudden tightness in his throat.

"No, no, it's on, Big M. I just... these tunnels get really small."

The tension in Magnus' frame dissipated slightly. "Come on back, Whirl."

He returned in minutes, just as Magnus began to hear the unmistakable sound of a lot of troops trying to move silently.

"They think moving around without lights on makes them hard to spot," said Whirl. "Whattaya want to do about the armour?"

"The best we can do is lead them away from it."

"You're bleeding again."

Magnus looked down at his chest. A dribble of fuchsia emerged from beneath his crumpled white plating.

"Then let's move swiftly."

"All right. You got ahold of that gun?"

"Yes."

Whirl stooped, and before Magnus could protest, scooped the small bot up onto his shoulders one-handed. He set off at a lope into the cavern. Magnus let the weapon rest against Whirl's cockpit and hung on, too weary and too surprised to make a case for his own dignity. Let Whirl carry him for a while. It was efficient.

 


End file.
